


From the End of the Sofa

by betweenacts



Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: F/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 05:05:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betweenacts/pseuds/betweenacts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David and Catherine hadn’t seen each other in a long time; so long they didn’t even count anymore. So long that they couldn’t remember what had come in the way of their friendship anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From the End of the Sofa

**Author's Note:**

> look! I wrote a Valentine's day fic!

David and Catherine hadn’t seen each other in a long time; so long they didn’t even count anymore. So long that they couldn’t remember what had come in the way of their friendship anymore.

Catherine was in London for the first time in almost a year, having two weeks off from The Office, Adrian wanted her to bond with his daughters and she missed hers, so she went back.

David appeared at her door with a bottle of wine and one of cranberry juice, a DVD case and his smile, let himself in with his emergency key and walked in like he belonged.

“What if I was naked,” she asked as she followed him to her kitchen.

She had been surprise to listen to the key turning, imagining it was Adrian, but then remembered Adrian didn’t have her key.

“Like I care,” he laughed, putting the bottles on the counter and looking for glasses.

“What if there was someone with me,” she asked again and he stopped going through her cabinets.

“I’m sorry; this was a bit assuming, wasn’t it? We haven’t talked in a while and I just thought I could and…” he stuttered as he scratched his chin and turned his head slightly to the left.

“David,” she called him breaking him from his worried rambling, “It’s ok. I was joking,” she said softly.

And so he got the popcorn from a drawer and smiled over the fact that she had a package of sweet popcorn even with all the time between talks.

They had a tradition; they would watch bad movies on mute, making up lines for them. It didn’t always work seeing that Catherine liked watching bad movies and usually knew the actual lines for them.

They had watched “Showgirls”, Demi Moore’s “Striptease”, Catherine had sworn Jessica Alba’s “Honey” was kind of nice, and David felt personally offended when Catherine chose “Jennifer’s Body” for their bad movies session.

On the occasion of watching Halle Berry’s “Catwoman” Catherine gave out a dying howl every time there was supposed to be a meow and David could never watch the movie again with a straight face.

“So are we going to watch Stepford Wives again?”

“No, because you already know the actual lines of that one.”

“It’s a great movie,” she exclaimed eating popcorn from her bowl.

“Of course it is, robot-women’s head blowing up and all that,” he cooed as if he was talking to a baby while eating his popcorn.

“You can also keep that bowl or burn it,” she said seriously.

“Sweet popcorn is not that bad,” he screamed with his mouth full.

“I am certain that the devil shares your opinion,” she stated.

David put the movie on and Catherine was enjoying her popcorn way too much to pay attention to the DVD menu, but when the opening credits rolled on the realization of which movie it was sunk in.

“I’m going to kill you,” she stated in a cold voice. “I thought anything with either of us was forbidden,” she said flatly.

“Well, it should be, but you can’t even remember what it’s about after you leave a project, so…”

David was smiling smugly when a handful of popcorn hit him in the middle of his face, from afar you could even hear the _twac_ it made as it hit him.

David decided half-way through that only him could say the lines that were supposed to be Selena Gomez’s.

“Why are there two of them,” he inquired.

“I think one of them is supposed to have a bad fake English accent,” she stated not quite sure of what she was saying.

“Is this where you come in,” he asked laughing.

“I believe so, I’m like the aunt or something to the English Selena Gomez,” she explained and then took a sip of her juice. “I don’t remember much,” she said shrugging.

“What? None of all your 6 lines,” he smiled.

The movie goes on and when Catherine appears in the red dress, David talks complete gibberish, not even paying attention to who is talking and when people are talking at all and Catherine looks at him realizing he is not paying attention at all. “Nice dress, huh,” she smiled.

When David turned, Catherine stopped smiling - there was a fond look on his face, something between miss and want that made her breath hitch.

“I miss you… I… I miss this,” he mumbled, the words stumbling out of his mouth quiet and full of worry, like he didn’t want them to be said out loud.

“How can you miss something when you are living it? I am here, we are doing our weird-arse version of a movie night, what is there to miss,” she inquired in a contained anger that was years in the making, that had been slowly building.

“Why did I marry Georgia,” he pondered out loud.

“Why should I know, David, you are the one who said ‘I do’.” She stood up.

“Please, sit,” he begged.

“It’s Valentine’s Day, not that I care,” she informed him, as though maybe he had forgotten that.

“Where is your boyfriend,” he asked.

“Where is your again pregnant wife,” she replied.

“We used to be best friends,” he hisses.

“What ever happened to that, eh,” she snaps.

“Can you stop being sarcastic for one moment? Jesus,” he yelled.

“No, I shan’t, it’s Valentine’s Day,” she remarked.

“Did you just misquote Wilf,” he asked.

“It’s me, let’s face it, chances are it was a coincidence,” she was angry but at the same time a smile was fighting to grace her lips.

They were sitting each on one end of the sofa, miles away but only a few feet apart.

“Can you slide from your end of the sofa so I can hug you,” he requested.

She looked down to her shoelaces; he held her hand and pulled her to him.  His hands accommodating themselves on her hips, bringing her closer.

She put her face against his neck, breathing him in as he kissed her head, the miles slowly drifting away.

“Do you want a cuppa,” she asked still against his neck.

“No, you will end up burning the kettle,” he smiled against her hair.

“It was just the once! You twat,” she exclaimed slapping his arm without leaving the cocoon his arms provided.

“Can we be best friends again,” he asked, voice straining.

“I don’t think we can be friends again, love,” she sighed, all the sorrow from her shoulders setting on her words.

“Why not,” he inquired, confused.

“Because we love each other. That’s why,” she answered simply; no jokes, no word-plays, just the truth.

“I can stay with you, right here, forever,” he suggested.

“Promises, promises,” she mumbled.

He tugged her hair softly, making her look at him. “I am going to kiss you.” He stated and she snorted.

Their lips met, their tongues danced with one another, she could feel his breath against her cheek, and he could feel her eyelashes tickling his skin.

She sucked his lower lip, he tightened his hold on her hip with one hand, the other scratching her scalp, they only parted because air was needed, and they couldn’t exactly live by breathing each other in.

“I love you,” he told her.

“I know,” she said before emptying out his bowl of sweet popcorn, which was poking her waist, in his head and giving out a loud belted laugh.

“I missed that sound,” he said eating the popcorn that was on his shirt.

“You are such a sap, why do I hang out with you,” she asked.

They knew there were miles they needed to walk, but not right now, as they escaped from the outside world from their ends of the sofa.


End file.
